


Jacob Frye x Reader: The Rook and the Mockingbird

by Oreana



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Hand Jobs, Love, Masturbation, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Romance, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex, love letter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-08-17 12:15:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8143646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oreana/pseuds/Oreana
Summary: Jacob receives an anonymous love letter. He feels flattered but doesn’t pay much attention to it first. Over time, he receives more letters and they go from confessing love to flirtatious to sensual and erotic. His mind is soon really teased and excited with the playful personality behind the letters.  He tries to catch the writer but they always find original ways for the letters to be delivered while escaping his vigilance.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> {IMPORTANT: I am afraid that no more Jacob Frye/Assassin's Creed works will come from me having been harassed out of the fandom for nearly half a year. I've lost my drive and passion for it entirely, but I appreciate the support and love that has come from some of my readers. <3 Thank you all for the fun times, but because of the death threats and other absurd comments thrown my way via Tumblr, I'd rather forget about this fandom entirely. Do not expect anymore updates of these stories.}
> 
> dawnee75 (on tumblr) wrote the love letters, and I wrote the reactions and the story. Much love to her for the help in getting revenge on Jacob Frye and his sending out love letters to others. C;
> 
> This story will be written very much like the In His Dreams story where it’s not told directly from the perspective of the reader, but the female will be blank and nameless. Fill in as you desire. ;)
> 
> If you want to check on artwork/ headcanons/ RP snippets/ love letters/ and see if requests are open, please check my tumblr: The Blind Geisha Teahouse: http://blindgeishateahouse.tumblr.com/
> 
> Like my content? Shoot me a donation on Ko-Fi~! Every little bit keeps me freed up to produce more! https://ko-fi.com/A4381WZM

The Fight Club was where Jacob Frye found his time to relax after his duties in regards to taking down Blighters and Templars. Sure, it was the same dangerous task of doing his best to stay alive in the ring against a bunch of strong brutes, but he was so confident in his skills that he cared little for the supposed change in pace and scenery when it came to gaining more money and recognition about London.

Another man soon struck the floor of the fighting ring, and before Jacob knew it, the space around him was now nearly covered with at least close to ten bodies after his match. That was not to say he didn’t take a few scrapes from the fight. He had a blooded lip and nose from a few swings he didn’t duck away from in time, but he sniffled back the blood before using his bandaged hands to wipe most of it away from sight.

Declared the champion again and all the Assassin could think to do was smirk at the cheers as the crowd was getting wise on betting on him whenever he showed up. He did his wave and pointing to a few women in the crowd with a cocky, confident grin before moving a thumb to the corner of his mouth where he tried to stop the bleeding only to find spitting the saliva tainted in his blood was the best relief for him.

“Outstanding!” exclaimed Robert Topping as he followed Jacob outside of the center ring, a few workers coming in to take care of the bodies or rush those that were still alive to medical care. “Another splendid show!”

“You say that every evening I show, Topping,” Jacob pointed out with a smirk curved upon his lips even if his tone sounded dull at the idea, making his way out of the ring and towards his clothes, which he had tossed upon one of the empty tables before entering the fray earlier in the evening.

“And I mean it with the same fervor every evening, Mr. Frye!” Robert excused flamboyantly, his hands to his chest before spreading them apart as if to welcome the sensation.

Jacob shook his head with that same grin occupying his face as he reached for his collapsible top hat to move his fist past the rim of it to un-collapse it and make it wearable again before slicking his hand over his hair to place the fashionable accessory upon his head once more, followed by his under shirts, necktie, and then trench coat. “I best be off,” he chuckled, beginning to unwrap his fists that were marred in the blood of others before bothering to put his gloves on in their place. “I have a train to catch.”

“Ah, before you leave, Mr. Frye,” insisted Robert, grabbing the Assassin’s winnings and placing them within Jacob’s open hand. “For your bravery tonight.”

Taking his winnings, Jacob lightly tilted his top hat as thanks to Robert before pocketing them in his trench coat and hurrying off outside to be greeted with the evening air of London.

The sound of a train’s whistle blew, causing Jacob to jerk his head towards the train tracks just overhead from where he was. The train—his hideout train—was about to leave the station, and he needed to get on it quickly. Any other person would deem the thought impossible as the locomotive was ever so steadily beginning to make its way from the station onward to its next destination, but not Jacob. If anything, he enjoyed in the challenge and quickly ran to the nearby buildings surrounding the old tracks and unleashed his grappling hook to bring himself up to the roofs in a quick fashion before lassoing the support that held the train tracks themselves—swinging from the rooftop he was upon with such force that he was able to make it on the rocky road that hoisted the tracks the steam train was upon.

The train was fast, but Jacob would prove to be faster as he hurried as quickly as he was able after his ‘on the move’ headquarters. As the train even thought of outclassing him in terms of speed, Jacob unleashed his grappling hook once more to grab onto the rear cart and pull himself onboard with a satisfied smirk curving upon his lips as he did so.

“What a rush,” he boasted to himself, making his way onwards to the small dining cart they had that consisted of a bar and a small sitting area. Walking past the bar, he grabbed one of the beer bottles on his way to the table not far away, sitting down to relax for the evening. Popping the top off of the beer, he did away with the cap with a simple flick of his finger as he knew he would down the drink that evening and not have to worry about preserving it.

Blood. He could still taste the damn blood in his mouth when he took that long drink, and he groaned that it was even slightly tainting the flavor as it was. Digging a finger into the spot that was injured, Jacob pulled his prying fingers back out to look at how thick the blood was to judge how long the wound may bleed before spitting on the floor to be rid of the coppery, unwelcome taste. Evie could yell at him about it later, but for now, he was busy trying to enjoy himself.

As the blood continued to tease his taste buds, the Assassin sighed at his inward aggression at the accuser. “Well, bastard’s not standing anymore, is he?” Jacob mused silently with a satisfied smirk in the matter as he remembered his earnings then and there and began to grope about in his many pockets for it.

In the process of trying to remember what pocket he placed it in a moment ago, Jacob’s fingers came across a piece of paper he didn’t remember being there before and creased his brow in confusion as he slowly pulled it from his pockets to gaze upon it. His brow rose when he realized it was a letter of some sort. Bringing it slowly to the surface of the table, Jacob looked at it from the back and the front as if thinking there might be something hidden there on the folded pages about the outside.

There was nothing except a lipstick mark of sorts that he almost mistook for blood given the red tinge of it.

“What’s this now; just a letter?” he pondered, finding that odd as he would receive letters from time to time but only from the Council, Evie (if he never saw her in passing and something urgent came up), or Rooks that needed to get information to him quickly from other parts of London. As he unfolded the letter finally, he did see that it was just a letter…but not just any letter…it was apparently from an admirer of sorts. Now the lipstick mark was making sense.

Reclining against the wall, Jacob propped his feet lazily in the seat he was in alone and began to read to himself while attempting to enjoy his beer once more.

{Dear Mr. Frye,

 

Perhaps you will be surprised upon receiving such a letter; however, I believe you are no stranger to the very words I am about to put down on this piece of paper. I am certain that you are not hearing them for the first time… nor the last.

I remember the first time my eyes meet yours in the streets of Whitechapel. You were fighting a group of Blighters by yourself. You were moving around and fighting with such strength, such passion, each move was full of grace. I was intrigued by your persona. This was our first meeting, and I was nothing more to you than another face in the crowd, a shadow among other Londoners. Chance or fate has put us in the presence of each other repeatedly. Stung by curiosity, I got to know you through the grapevine then: your Rooks, also by myself but I cannot say more without revealing my true identity.

Only later, I realized new feelings were born inside me that day, feelings that were hard to ignore and that have grown over time until the present letter.

I am stirred by your presence…I yearn for you to speak to me. Pardon my frankness—forgive my boldness, but I cannot restrain myself any longer. Mr. Frye, please allow me to tell you how I ardently admire and love you. Perhaps this is not very ladylike but I cannot be silenced when my heart longs for yours and when nothing can stop this confession which, from my hand, fled.

What cannot letters inspire? They have souls, they can speak, and they are the expression of the transport of the heart. Today, they are the messenger of my inner secrets.

I wish I could be here with you when you will read this letter. I would try to read upon your beloved face if your mind is piqued by curiosity. Maybe it will make you smile with this delicious smile that lights you up and that creates an adorable dimple on your cheek. Perhaps an amused chuckle will pass yours lips I dream of kissing?

Dear Mr. Frye, my soul is heavy still with unexpressed love, but I must end this letter now. I wish I could have the courage to talk to you face-to-face, to let you know how you make me feel, how you are my first thought in the morning and my last at night. Perhaps one day I will.

Forever yours,

 

Your secret admirer}

Jacob couldn’t help but smile as a brief, nasally laugh escaping his nostrils after they flared in delight at the words that teased and toyed with his senses and stroked his ego in the proper way. Looking again at the letter back and forth for anything else, he cocked a curious brow to it all. “How did you get this in my coat without me noticing from in the ring, you sly woman?” Jacob pondered.

While he usually tossed out any letters that detailed certain things regarding the other means of which he received letters, this one he folded carefully back up and placed into his pocket. To actually have a finely written message that flattered him was rare, and Jacob Frye was more than willing to keep it nearby. As he remained relaxed with his upper back resting against the nearby wall of the booth, he moved his foot idly back and forth in thought.

“She was around before?” he wondered aloud, looking upward at the ceiling as if the answer was there, twiddling the beer bottle in his fingers and then taking another drink only to swear in distaste. “Bloody hell, that fucking cut,” Jacob grumbled, wishing it would heal over faster than it was.

 

\--

 

Jacob did his best to try and forget about the love letter that was sent to him days ago, but it was proving a challenge when the words seemed to always find their way back to his heart—taunting him that this secret admirer had fancied him but wasn’t yet going to show herself to him. Was it just a one time thing? It seemed that letter was the only one he had encountered as of late and, whenever at the Fight Club and without his coat, he would double check his pockets to make sure another might have slipped inside of them.

He would just use his eagle vision to try and locate the source of the woman responsible, but the letter had long since lost that residue on it to allow him to locate her properly when the thought dawned on him.

As he remained on the train one day, rereading the letter again to try and put a face to the person who might be responsible, he was interrupted from his thoughts when his sister, Evie, walked in.

“Don’t read for too long, Jacob, you might overwork that simple mind of yours,” Evie taunted, not paying any attention to what it was her brother was indeed reading in her passing as her room was in the next cart over.

Jacob sarcastically laughed, folding up the letter and placing it back into his pocket. “How delightfully dry your wit is, dear sister,” the younger twin jabbed back. “However, I was merely enjoying in a bit of light reading until you ruined the pleasant atmosphere.”

Evie stopped dead at the door, which was her exit and escape from her brother she lacked the patients for now and again. Hearing him comment about reading, she raised a curious brow. “Oh really?” She turned on her heels and crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes wandering up and down as if to study Jacob. “You’ve been reading over that message a lot longer than you do our target board, and that has me curious as to who has you falling all over your responsibilities worse than usual, brother dearest.” A knowing gleam in her eyes caught Jacob’s attention. “Given the warn lipstick mark on the paper, I’d say it is some woman come to flatter and boast your ego worse than usual.”

A modest smirk spread across his lips as he folded his hands between his legs in a relaxed position. “Jealous that Greenie doesn’t send you such well wishes?”

Evie scoffed, causing her arms to fall to her sides as she rolled her eyes at her impossible brother. “Hardly,” she grumbled in return. “Keep your head out of the clouds, Jacob,” Evie continued onward in a means to scold. “We do have a city to protect.”

Jacob could be smug about it all, reclining back on the decorative loveseat with his mudded boots outstretched upon the cushions and his arms woven behind his head. With his sister out of the cart, his mind began to wander as he was curious why this mysterious woman was being so silent. Was she too nervous to send another? Was she perhaps nearby? Was she a Rook? Was she actually an Assassin they never knew was in London?

So many thoughts began to bombard the young man and he began to toy with the prospects in his head before finding it within himself to lower his top hat to his eyes to blot out the sun, which was still out and pouring in from the window, and closed his eyes to try and find rest before thinking of being active that evening.

 

Jacob found himself back at the Fight Club again that night after he took down a nearby Blighter turf that had surfaced in Whitechapel suddenly. As he prepared for entering the ring, he found a table not far from where he would be fighting to place his belongings as he began to undress for the brawl ahead. _If she shows_ , Jacob thought, _she will have to be within sight. Perhaps I will catch a glimpse of her._

He was merely guessing, really. There was no indication throughout the days that this mystery woman would show herself, but he was curious. One simple letter had roused his curiosity, and he wanted to see if he could catch her.

The fights went as usual, but Jacob nearly took a few rough hits as he was busy dividing his attention from the fight to the clothes he left unattended in hopes of spying this admirer of his. Nothing appeared to happen out of the blue, but he did have to remind himself that he was keeping his eyes off of his clothes quite frequently, and if she was as sly as she was the first time, she could easily slip a letter in without him noticing a second time.

If she did…he would be prepared for it.

When the encounters were over and Jacob was declared a champion, he used a towel to wipe the sweat and blood from his face before making his way hastily to his clothes to begin checking the pockets.

“Lose something, Mr. Frye?” Robert asked curiously given Jacob was searching so feverishly for something he couldn’t quite guess as to what.

Sighing with irritation upon his breath, Jacob worried she didn’t show again as he continued his search. “No, I was just—.” Then he felt it, a slip of something in one of his inner pockets of his trench coat, making him grope at the paper eagerly to pull it to the surface.

It had a lipstick seal on it yet again, and he knew it had to be hers. Using his eagle vision quickly to pick up on the trail, he saw the footsteps leading out of the Fight Club, sure enough. Seemed she hadn’t decided to stick around after hours to wait and see his expression or anything of that nature. Perhaps she was too bashful? The thought didn’t dawn on Jacob as he didn’t bother to put his clothes back on. Remaining in his pants and boots, he hurried quickly to the front doors.

“Wait! Mr. Frye—your winnings and…” before Robert could think to finish, Jacob was already out the door. “…your clothes…” Sighing, he turned to the clothing Jacob had left behind and shrugged with a roll of his eyes. “Perhaps he will come back for them.”

It was raining outside as Jacob hurried like a hunting dog hot on the trail of its prey, water dampening his body in the process of his hurried actions and causing his hair to nearly fall before his face. When did she leave this letter? Seemed her trail was quite far from Whitechapel’s Fight Club.

Jacob found himself coming to a quick halt when he realized her trail had just come to a stop, for some reason. “Really, what’s this then? Gone just like that…?” Jacob mused in confusion as he noticed the footprints just stopped randomly on the road as though she ceased to exist. He tried not to draw attention to himself on the matter (more than he already was with being partially clothed), but he found that to be odd. Never had that happened before…

As he stood there on the side of the road contemplating what happened or where she could be, it was then it dawned on him that it was probably wise to head back and at least retrieve his gear. It was a bit irresponsible of him—leaving his gauntlet somewhere unattended as well as his cane-sword and kukri blade amongst other weapons he kept, but he hadn’t thought about that prospect until just then, if he were to be honest.

He hardly knew this woman, and she was already making him lose his mind.

“Bloody hell,” he grumbled to himself, turning on his heels and hurrying quickly back to the Fight Club, hoping Robert hadn’t shut it down for the day, and he could still retrieve his clothes.

Robert Topping was indeed still there, sitting nearby Jacob’s clothing as if expecting he’d come back. “I figured you’d return,” he commented rather positively in the matter, seeming to only have that circus man persona at all times. “Took a few blows to the head, did we, Mr. Frye? I’ve never seen you run quite that fast partially nude, I must say.”

Jacob knew he was teasing as he grabbed at his clothing to arrange them in order while attempting to keep his wet hair back, but the rain had soaked it pure on through, making the strands impossible to deal with currently. “Did you see anybody near my clothes this evening, Robert?” Jacob asked, his tone conveying his seriousness as he began to first fix his white undershirt in place.

Robert looked upward at the ceiling with a twist of his mouth as he thought about the events that evening. His legs crossed as he sat on the edge of the table Jacob’s attire and weapons were on and hands in his lap, he drummed his fingers idly against one another. “Many, really,” he answered. “However, I will be honest, I wasn’t aware you wanted me to watch your clothes. Too busy watching the matches, you see.”

Jacob groaned, shaking his head at fate being so against him as he began to work on his red necktie next.

“Just trying to make certain all is fair and all of that, Mr. Frye; you understand, I am sure,” Robert continued as Jacob was nearly fully clothed by this point. “And before you think of running off again—.” At that moment, the ringleader of the Fight Club dug into his pocket and handed over the money that Jacob was rewarded.

“Thanks,” Jacob commented simply, curling his fingers about the bag of money before pocketing it separate to the letter upon situating his trench coat into place.

Taking to his feet, Robert fixed his top hat upon his head before slapping Jacob gently on the upper shoulder. “I will see you during the next event, I am sure, Mr. Frye. Good evening to you.”

With Robert about to take his leave, Jacob nodded to the thought and turned about to head for the door and be on his way back to a nearby Rook stronghold to find peace away from the train and his sister for once. Besides, reading the letter in private would be more enjoyable anyway—the lads would understand to leave him be.

As he found security and shelter from the horrible downpour at one of the buildings that the Rooks kept as their lodgings, Jacob removed the letter carefully, as he didn’t desire to smear the ink or even the lipstick mark. Double checking to make sure he was alone in the old building, he broke the small seal and began to move the note out into the open to read.

 

{Dear Mr. Frye,

 

I hope this letter will find you well and in good health. Perhaps my first missive has awoken your curiosity? Perhaps you might have been wondering who is the woman daring in writing you such words of love? I have been thinking about you, Mr. Frye… a lot… nonstop, actually. I cannot think of anything besides your beautiful smile and your rich tone of voice. You have intoxicated my mind, bewitched my soul.

Mr. Frye, I have daydreams about you. I just sit in a corner and listen to you for hours, delighting in the sound of your laugh, getting to know everything there is to know about you around a pint –or many?- I would patch you up anytime you need it and make sure you are fine, or we could walk in a park, eating ice-cream, and I rejoice in your mere presence.

Dear Mr. Frye, I would make sure you’d be happy. I especially consider my options at night when I am alone in a big, cold bed. For you never leave my thoughts, and it is perhaps the time of day I think of you the most. However, my musings then are way less innocent than a simple stroll in a park in your company.

At night, I think of kissing your lips most passionately before giving into the burning infatuation you inspire within me. How I wish you could really touch me in those idle times! And my own touch does not do the trick, dearest Jacob, for I always feel an empty shell without your embrace.

Perhaps I should tell you more? Perhaps I should reveal my identity, make my confession before surrendering to the sweet feelings you inspire me? Perhaps one day I will.

 Forever yours,

 

Your secret admirer}

Jacob smirked again to himself, flipping the letter over and even making sure that there wasn’t more written somewhere else. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was eager to know more. He felt toyed with…as though the letter was going to turn into something sexually exciting for him only to end on such a small note.

“Quite the tease, aren’t you?” Jacob whispered as he could still hear the Rooks celebrating and getting drunk downstairs given the weather outside. As he folded up the letter to place back carefully within the inner lining of his trench coat, he removed himself temporarily to grab at a beer bottle, which was resting not far away for him to have, as a female Rook had offered it to him graciously upon his arrival.

Doing away with the top, he took a long and hard drink before clearing his throat and gazing out beyond the stained, old window that was wet from the downpour. “I hope you realize this means I am hunting you,” he said again to himself, eyes looking down at the liquid in the dark brown bottle he was ingesting, merely musing over the thought. “I will catch you soon, my mockingbird.”

And with that said, Jacob removed himself from the window and headed to the lower floor to join in with the men and women merely getting drunk and having a rowdy time for the evening.

 

\--

 

The letters persisted now and again though only the times Jacob frequented the Whitechapel Fight Club but not the others about London. After he began to notice a trend, he started going to that particular Fight Club to make sure he would catch this ‘mockingbird’ that took great joy in toying with him and his senses. However, he was not exactly succeeding in finding her. Every time he tried to follow her tracks, it seemed she would just stop in, drop off the letter, and then leave. The tracks would always dissipate into nothing after awhile of following it. Jacob could only assume, because there was so much going on about London, that the tracks would easily disappear in the more traffic heavy times of the day.

When Jacob found himself back at the Fight Club, he went straight to Robert Topping, interrupting his speech quickly when he was gathering bets on the best fighter. Jacob’s hand gripped firmly on Robert’s shoulder as he looked the man dead in the eyes with his fingers gesturing to the bookie intently. “I have a favor to ask of you, Robert,” he whispered between the two of them, though the commotion surrounding them both would easily drown out his soft spoken words.

As if expecting Jacob’s words, Robert’s upbeat personality fell, and he rolled his eyes with a sarcastic sigh. “Whatever it is you got yourself into this time, Mr. Frye, I am not going to spend the packet to cover your debts.”

“No, listen to me!” Jacob hissed through his teeth, wanting Robert to focus. “I want you to promise me you’ll guard my clothes tonight, and whatever woman comes over, I want you to remember in detail what she looks like.”              

Looking Jacob up and down in confusion, he gently brushed the Assassin’s harsh hold off of his shoulder. “Can you not afford to catch a woman’s heart any other way? Strapping young lad such as yourself is bound to find some sort of means.” Turning his attention to a patron not far away, Robert motioned them over towards the board. “Come on then! Don’t be shy! Right this way; right this way!”

It was Jacob’s turn to roll his eyes with a vocal moan. “For the past month now, this woman has been sending me love letters, and—.”

“Splendid then!” Robert interrupted, turning to Jacob with his hands clasping his upper shoulders no matter how frustrated the Assassin appeared at the touch. “So you’ve found her? Jolly good show, that! I wish you luck!”

“Robert,” Jacob groaned in warning when Robert removed his hold on him, only to have the man ignore him and continue to attend to the numbers in regards to the bids. Sucking in his lower lip to prevent himself from saying anything spiteful, he grabbed Robert by the upper arm rather roughly to get him to focus then.

Hissing in dismay, the bookie relaxed as he knew that the Assassin wouldn’t cause him harm. “Alright, alright,” his voice dropped a few pitches to show he was ill amused. Gazing at Jacob from just under the rim of his own top hat, he continued, “Watch your clothing as if it were me own mum. I’ll make sure it doesn’t grow legs and depart from here.”

 _Finally_ , Jacob thought with his body relaxing and his grip removing from Robert Topping (causing Robert to straighten his attire with a shake of his head). As he was soon undressed and about to head towards the ring, Jacob pointed at Robert. “Remember what I said.”

“Yes, yes, Mr. Frye,” Robert mumbled, rolling his head and eyes in unison at Jacob’s persistent behavior lately. “I’ll be sure to describe your dream woman to you in full detail. Just focus on the match, will you?”

Jacob was eager for her this time. He felt like he had blocked off her attempts to hand over the letter she would send. Unless she was in the crowd earlier somewhere, she would be oblivious to the fact Robert would be looking for her while he was busy fighting in the ring.

Once the matches were won, Jacob took his quick leave of the center ring and hurried to Robert, who was applauding him upon his approach. “Good show, lad! Absolutely brilliant, as always!”

Jacob waved away the complements, as he heard them enough. “Did you see her?” he asked eagerly, looking at his clothing and trying to hunt for a letter just in case she was missed.

“No, Mr. Frye,” answered Robert with a simple shrug, making sure to drop the winnings there at the table just in case the man felt compelled to run off naked in the streets again like he did sometime ago. “Women abound, but no sign of one taking interest in your clothes.”

Sighing out his frustration, he began to dress himself in a fit of aggression. Why was she so damn hard to catch? “Thanks then,” he grumbled, flipping his collapsible top hat upon his head after fixing his messy hair into place.

“Pleasure was mine,” cheered Robert, though a bit of sarcasm could no doubt be heard in those words as he got to his feet and tapped Jacob on the shoulder before departing from the scene.

As Jacob took his leave of the Fight Club, his mind began to wander once more on how to catch this clever woman. She was dodging him at every opportunity she was given. He was so lost in thought, Jacob couldn’t hear a young, female orphan, who worked with the Rooks, calling out to him from behind.

“Mr. Frye! Mr. Frye, wait!” she called out urgently, finally catching up to him and grabbing at the tail of his trench coat.

“Oi, watch it!” Jacob hissed, snapped violently from his thoughts when it came to the young Rook trying to get his attention.

“Forgive me, sir,” the small orphan began timidly, offering a letter to him, “but this was given to me awhile ago, and it was asked to be delivered to you.”

He thought nothing of it at first. Letters in the hands of orphans usually meant Rook business or Evie trying to contact him. “What’s this then?” Jacob asked, sounding unenthused as he looked the letter over…at least until the lipstick mark came into view. His grip on the letter tightened intently, as now the woman was sending it in a different manner. Had she caught onto his planning, or…

Jacob drummed the letter against his open palm, looking the young orphan girl up and down curiously. “You are too young for me, love,” he commented plainly, even if attempting to be funny. However, if this all was just some sort of joke, he would find himself a bit irritated at the thought. “Also, this lipstick is hardly your shade,” Jacob insisted, trying to hand the letter back to the sender. “Try again in a few years.”

She raised her hands and refused it back. “No, no, you’ve got it all wrong,” the young girl insisted. “A lady asked me to give it to you.”

“A lady?” he quoted, looking about the crowds of London curiously. “What lady? What did she look like?”

“I was asked not to say, sir,” she reluctantly spoke, fidgeting as she worried Jacob’s reaction to that as he already seemed rather irritable.

He hissed in dismay at these turn of events. If it were anybody else, he could shake them for information, but not this little girl. Sighing out his frustration, Jacob pursed his lips before nodding to her. “Thank you.”

Jacob knew Evie would be out hunting her targets with Henry, so the train would be his for the evening. Upon finding solace in his cart that night, he looked around to make sure that nobody was about to tease him over the letter he held close like the most treasured possession he owned. Ripping past the seal, Jacob unfolded the letter with eagerness to read what this mystery woman had to say this time—catching his breath at the first few words he caught.

 

{Jacob, my beloved,

 

I have been wondering lately: perhaps have I caught your attention? Perhaps have you been wondering who I am? I can imagine you lost in idle thoughts while you try to remember how many women gave you the charming smile and the darling eyes lately… Way too many I would guess, and it wouldn’t help your deductions.

Perhaps have you been studying lipstick shades? Aren’t Assassins supposed to be fine observers? Tell me frankly, have you been trying to find me, love? Have you been wondering how I have been able to escape the constant attention and vigilance of a Master Assassin? Well, I could tell you but I guess you will have to go with an evasive answer. Let’s just say I do have my own little tricks…

Perhaps have you been thinking of me? I know I have been thinking of you, quite a lot. I have had dreams of you. Should I tell you more?

Last night, I dreamt of you in a very peculiar yet enjoyable situation. You had me seated entirely naked in front of a golden framed mirror. You were behind me in your glorious nudity, encouraging me to spread my legs slowly with your hand on my right inner thigh in your velvety voice. How my heart was racing, looking at our reflection in the mirror. It was probably the most erotic scene I have ever witnessed… That is until a bit later I must say…

Your hand caressed my thigh up to my womanhood until your index finger started fondling my clit. No need to say you had me wet and willing to do anything for you within minutes.

“Wait until I let you have a taste of my tongue,” you said playfully, eyeing me up and down, before getting slowly on your knees. Your strong hands grabbed my hips, had me sitting close to the edge of the chair and, with a last mischievous smirk upon your face, you went straight to feast on me.

How could I ever describe the whole set in words? Here I was, enjoying the view of your remarkable ass reflecting in the looking glass while your magical tongue was fucking me in every ways possible. You teased first, licking along my folds all the way from my entrance to my clit. Back and forth. Forth and back.

Gasping for air between two whines of pleasure, one of my hands was grabbing the wooden chair while the other was buried in your air. “Mmmmm, Jacob! Yes! Yes! Yes,” I kept uttering, lost into the sensation. My head thrown back, I kept singing your praises like a litany. Only then you asked me to “look at you” and never lost eye contact while languorously sucking on my most sensitive part.

Wanting to show you my utmost appreciation and a sneak preview of what was to come yet, I brought your fingers to my mouth to suck on them with a shared enthusiasm. Only then you seemed to lose control, my darling. Standing up, my lips searched yours to taste myself on your tongue while guiding you to take my place in the chair. Looking back at the mirror, I picked a titillating angle for you to enjoy and gave a few tentative licks along your swollen cock before swallowing you. My darling love, seems you have enjoyed it considering your increasing sighs and moans.

“Fuck! Just like that! Fuck yeah!” and your words only turned me on more.

Stopping a few seconds, I furtively checked our reflection in the mirror and noticed how beautiful you were: fragile, disheveled, abandoned, your lips slightly opened, your eyes darkened, slightly sweating under my ministrations. How I wanted you in that second. Offering myself for more display, I went back to deep throating you, touching my aching pussy in the process for you to enjoy the show.

Your eyes landing on the mirror, you bit your lips. “Fuck! I need you here and now! Need to feel you around my cock, desperate and begging for more!” you said, grabbing me and pinning me against the cold glass that almost collapsed under the assaults of our passion. Your muscular arms captured and picked me, my legs circling your abdomen while your tongue searched mine feverishly.

We landed on the bed nearby. “Want me as much as I want you, love?” you whispered in my ear. “On your hands and knees, facing the mirror.” You entered me in a swift motion, and I was trying not to scream your name in bliss with each long and delightful thrust, hands looking for anything to hold onto. It was primal, animal sex, and my climax was approaching quickly.

Straightening me up, holding my back against your chest, one of your hands stood on my neck keeping me still: “Look at us. Keep your eyes on our reflection in the mirror. Watch me fucking you, adoring every inch of you.”

You started thrusting slower but deeper into me. The vision of your chiseled thighs moving against me, your eyes, never leaving mine, drunk with desire, all of it together was pushing me over the edge

“I won’t be able to hold, Jacob. I am going to come,” I said in a whimpering voice.

“Cum then… Cum on my cock… Let me hear you…” you chuckled in return.

And with those words, your hand went stroking my clit adding even more stimulation. The combination of your heated words and the most erotic sight of you moving against me sent me in a swirling world of sensations, my orgasm crashing over me like it never happened before. Giving myself away in your embrace, my pussy fluttering and pulsating around you, triggering your own orgasm as you marked me with your love, swearing in the process, leaving us breathless and abandoned in each other’s tight embrace…

Just imagine my deception, Jacob, when I woke up with you gone from my bed, with only that figment of my imagination to keep me warm. How I screamed your name in very different circumstances that same night is, however, a different story. How I long for you, my love. Do you ever dream of me?

Catch me if you can, Jacob.

Forever yours,

 

Your secret admirer}

 

The letter fluttered to the ground as Jacob lacked the energy to even hold it much longer with his mind racing as it was. His heart was beating wildly and his breath was heavy, as though those very words and actions were something that did indeed happen between them. Opening his mouth to speak, he found himself lacking.

Honestly, this time, Jacob couldn’t say he didn’t get his rush, and that rush was making his pants feel restricted.

The area was still very much clear, really, and it was there Jacob didn’t hold back the sensation as he unfastened the belts in his way to loosen the pathway in his journey in regards to his excited cock the woman had teased properly just by a mere letter.

A letter had gotten him aroused…Jacob couldn’t even begin to fathom the idea, but he didn’t stop to really think about it either as he freed his growing erection and began to stroke the base heatedly with his palm after removing his glove to give a more desired skin on skin feel to it all. Resting on his side for a second, he eagerly fondled about for the letter once more to bring it to his eyes yet again to remind himself of this woman’s playful, sexual taunts before moving to his back.

The words—the images—all of them were clashing together at a high pace in his mind, making Jacob sweat as he stroked the skin of his sensitive organ to encourage it to swell further in delight. Closing his eyes, he imaged the scene once more of her taking the head into her mouth before pushing it slowly into her throat to suck and salivate upon the length he was toying with feverishly in her absence.

“Bloody hell,” he swore in private, his breath upon the cold air as he arched his back and carefully fondled his balls with his fingers when he found himself at the base of his cock again. His thighs tensed and he let a small cry of excitement escape him, disregarding that someone could hear him as he was so lost in his heated imagination.

Jacob began to gasp hotly as the thought of playing with her wet womanhood caused a heated rise within his chest as his heart beat rapidly. “I want to feel your hot, wet pussy around me so damn bad,” Jacob crudely remarked in private as his actions upon his swollen length accelerated when he felt the slit dribble with a warning.

Jacob wanted to feel all of it. He wanted to feel his eager manhood part the wet lips of this woman and let her feel the very thing she had been dreaming of and craving. He wanted to feel her wet warmth collapse around him as her orgasm would dampen him all the more. He felt his climax getting closer and closer as the thoughts paraded about in his mind, and it was there he choked his engorged length near the head to encourage it onward as he gasped out hotly from the needed release.

The milky white sprayed forth then, shooting straight for his face given the position he found himself upon when it came to Jacob lying on his back on the loveseat. Feeling the warmth mark his cheek, Jacob closed his eyes upon impact, feeling the rest of it burst less urgently and mark upon his chest and then stream to his abdomen and dribble down his length he had milked.

Moving his fingers from the stained length, he swore hotly at the climax he had coaxed, shaking his fingers to try and be rid of his own seed only to find he was making a worse mess than he already was. Puffing out his cheeks and expelling a much needed sigh, Jacob grabbed at his necktie to work on trying to wipe up the cum he had marked himself with. “Bloody hell, that woman,” he panted, moving to sit upright after he managed to get a majority of the evidence he had been masturbating off of him. “I swear, she is going to kill me with curiosity as to who she is.”

 

\--

 

The letters still persisted, and the next few were as erotic as the last, leaving Jacob to find himself having to relieve his passion in private when able. Every time he thought for sure he’d meet her or have her cornered, she would find some brilliant way to outsmart him.

It was beginning to make him wonder if it was an Assassin or a Rook of some sort. Whoever she was, she was smart…she knew how to cover her tracks. Still, as persistent as she was at refusing to be caught, Jacob continued to be unrelenting back when it came to the thrill of the hunt.

As Jacob was idly minding his business about Whitechapel one day, that same small orphan from weeks back happened upon him once more. “Mr. Frye!” she called eagerly, running as quickly as she could towards the Assassin and leader of the Rooks.

“Ah, hello there,” he commented intently, wondering if she had something for him. Turning to her, he cocked a curious brow as the girl struggled to catch her breath. “I assume you have something for me?”

“Yes,” she panted, handing the letter over. “It’s from her again.”

Jacob could only smirk at the thought, wondering what playful words she would spare him this time, only to be halted by the child eagerly.

“B-Before you open it, she told me to tell you ‘she is sorry’.”

The way this young Rook said such a thing made him curious and a bit worried as he looked the letter over. She said it was by this mystery woman, but this time, there was no lipstick mark. Was something wrong? He didn’t bother to dwell on the thought much, as he tore into the letter and read it eagerly.

{ My dearest Jacob,

 

I hope this letter will find you. I must say it has been quite a challenge to escape your vigilance and have the letters delivered no matter what. However, you probably have noticed that I have remained silent for a little while as of late.

I still watch you from afar, Jacob. I still love and long for you; however, I have been lost in guilty feelings. I have wanted to attract your attention so badly, trying to stand out of the crowd. I am afraid that your current interest in me might be only fueled by the erotic tension I have encouraged and incited when I long for your heart.

It is my fault and mine only. Perhaps if I have had the nerve to walk to you and start a conversation, my doubts would not be.

Do not believe all of this was just a game; I would give away everything if I were sure I had your heart. I can only confirm that my admiration, love and interest in you remain intact and true but, as of now, I ignore when the next letter will reach you, my beloved.

Forever yours,

 

Your secret admirer}

It was quick—not as playful as the last few he had received. It was full of doubt and full of worry, causing him concern. Yes, he was sexually energized by fantasies she planted in his mind, but that wasn’t the only reason he desired to meet her. He wanted to know more about her from the moment he retrieved the first letter.

So this was it, was it? She wouldn’t send anymore? He felt his heart pulsing a horrible pain in his chest, and it was there he looked eagerly back down at the orphan girl before him. “If I give you a letter in return, can you give it to that woman for me?” he asked eagerly, pocketing the somber words in his inner coat pocket.

“I-I think so, Mr. Frye,” she stuttered, fondling with her torn dress ever so slightly. “I know where she works, so I can give it to her in passing.”

So badly he wanted to demand to know where she was when such a thing escaped the orphan girl’s mouth, but he refrained. If this woman was scared of what her erotic letters had done to him, meeting her face-to-face would be unwise right now. Like a wounded bird, she would do her best to escape him no matter the cost—probably flee London.

Jacob knew he had to be quick, so digging into his coat lining he pulled out an old piece of paper that had a few names of targets scribbled on them to write what he needed to.

{To my mockingbird,

Ignore the garble of names on this paper, but I was in a rush to write back to you before you escape my grasp and disappear back into the many blank, common faces about London.

Your letters these past few months have kept me company far more than you realize. Yes, I am enthralled by your sexual appetite for me, but that is hardly what drives my curiosity—you had it that from the very first confession you sent me.

You have ruined nothing in me or between us; if anything, you have excited me and given me something to look forward to upon each rubbish morning I open my eyes and tend to my workings about London. If it is indeed love you say you have for me, then come and see me and talk to me instead of hiding in the shadows, for that is my job.

I leave the time up to you, but I will be willing to meet you where this all started: Whitechapel’s Fight Club.

This Friday, I will be at the club brawling as you’ve seen me do. Please, stop by, and let me talk to you. I will be there long after they’ve closed the doors as well, if you wish for a more private talk.

Please, trust me when I tell you I would do you no harm; I merely want to meet you.

Forever yours,

Jacob Frye}

He spent a long time on the letter, but when he felt the message was nonthreatening in any manner, he folded it up and handed it over the small girl. “Quickly now,” he urged, pointing back from whence she came.

Nodding, the girl accepted the letter and made an urgent dash back down the road to see if she couldn’t offer the letter to the woman she had been conversing with now and again in private.

As Jacob watched her leave, he sighed heavily. Would this mystery woman actually read it? Would she want to meet him? Out of frustration, he turned around and slammed his fist against the nearby wall and swore out angrily. “Dammit!”

A bit of pain occupied his fingers hitting the brick wall nearby, but he ignored it as his heart was still causing the most ache through him. All Jacob could do now was wait…as agonizing as it would be, he would wait.

 

\--

 

Friday came slower than it ever had for Jacob. He was so worried that this woman wouldn’t show that he didn’t even have it in him to do many matches that evening. After the first five, he had to take his leave of the ring and sit down, grabbing himself a beer and a bit of bread that was being spared by a nearby vendor to eat while in waiting.

His leg moving up and down anxiously, his eyes scanned the scene for anything incriminating. At times, his heart and mind got the better of him, and he nearly removed himself from his seat to go to a woman he thought for sure was looking for him in the ring, but only found she was eyeing the competition or trying to wave down the attention of a friend not far in the crowd.

Jacob felt as though he were about to go mad. Head lowered and his fingers digging into his hair (after he removed his top hat), he wished he didn’t feel so sick to his stomach in just waiting for this one woman, but he was anxious and couldn’t control his emotions.

Soon the doors closed and Robert Topping and Jacob were the only ones left. Robert couldn’t help but feel bad for the poor guy as he ventured over to the table with his arms behind his back. His eyes darting about in wonder of what to say, he cleared his throat to alert his presence to Jacob, as the Assassin had his head down on the table. “I think she just got held up somewhere, Mr. Frye,” Robert encouraged, wobbling back and forth on his heels. “You know that London weather and that rubbish traffic of ours; been a bloody nightmare since they thought it brilliant to make horses pull carriages through the streets of the city.”

Jacob slowly moved his head, looking upward at Robert with a neutral look. He knew the ringleader was trying to encourage him and bring him back to himself, but Jacob could only think to let a smile flicker upon his lips briefly. “Thanks for trying,” he sighed, fondling with the empty beer bottle in his hands, watching the glass dimly shine in the fading light about them. “I just don’t think she’s all that keen on seeing me, really.” His false smile turned into a more honest frown. “I guess one cannot blame her given what she’s seen me do, I suppose.”

“Oh, come now, Mr. Frye,” Robert dismissed, sitting partially on the other side of the table with his hands folded in his lap and his ankle overlapping the other foot. “You have plenty of…great…qualities!”

Again, Jacob could tell Robert was trying to be kind as the two hardly knew one another beyond what they talked about briefly in the Fight Club. “Forgive me for being blunt, but may I be alone?”

Robert had never really seen Jacob like this. He was heartbroken over a woman he never met, and the betting man never thought he would see such a vision to the street hardened Jacob Frye. “Alright then, Jacob,” he began, address the Assassin a bit less formal and more personal as he rose to his feet. “I’ll be in the back room for a bit if you need me. See yourself out should you decide when.” In passing, Robert tapped his knuckles on the tabletop and disappeared in the back as promised.

All Jacob could do was nod as he wasn’t feeling like addressing the situation further and just wanted to breathe the air of silence. Continuing to mull about it all in private over what he could do, Jacob eventually got himself to try and just drop the matter. It broke his heart further to consider as he wanted to meet this woman, but what could he do now? Sighing in frustration, he moved his forehead back to the clothed tabletop and tried to ignore the pain crippling him emotionally.

A tap. He felt someone tapping on his shoulder, and it caused him to groan irritably. “Robert, I told you I wanted to be alone.” Jacob’s words were muffled, but he knew they could be heard.

“It’s…it’s not Robert,” a female voice beckoned to the moody Assassin.

Hearing that it was a woman, Jacob’s face quickly shot upward to gaze upon the female standing before him. The words were like that of a nervous school boy’s, but he had to know. “I-Is it you? The one sending me those letters?” he asked, looking her over and silently taking in everything about her. She was dressed like any other woman on the street, so she wasn’t a Rook or an Assassin by any means, but even so, he found her to be a better vision that what he had pictured in his fantasies.

She folded her hands in front of her outfit, nodding slowly to Jacob’s curious question. “(Y/N),” she answered, her grasp before her attire showing her nervousness. “That is my name.”

Jacob shot to his feet, but in his desire to hug her in salvation, (Y/N) became startled and backed away a step or so with her hands risen to try and prevent the thought. “Forgive me, (Y/N),” Jacob apologized, scratching the side of his nose as he backed down and sat back where he was to show he meant no harm. “I just—I didn’t think you’d show.”

A small, weak laugh could be heard within her throat. “I almost didn’t, Mr. Frye.”

“‘Jacob’, if you please,” he corrected, motioning to the chair opposite to him that was empty. She debated on having a seat, but it seemed her desire to be in his presence won out, and so, she took to the empty chair. With her now in his company, Jacob motioned to the bread he had saved part of in case she happened by. “Were you hungry?”

She smiled at his gentle offer but shook her head all the same. “You’re not mad at me, are you?” (Y/N) probed curiously, leaning forward with her hands folded on the table.

“No,” Jacob answered, that relieved smile wrinkling his features. “I am just relieved you trust me enough to come and see me, (Y/N).”

“You fell for me through my letters. Does that not seem strange to you?” she asked, wrinkling her brow in curiosity.

Jacob scoffed playfully. “If anything, it makes me realize why my sister loves to read.” The Assassin reclined back in his seat, drumming his fingers against the beer bottle still.

“So…what now…?” she asked. “You caught your ‘mockingbird’ as you so called me.” Jacob seemed to gleam at her remembering that, looking away from her eyes to gaze back down at nothing in particular. “What do you plan on doing with her now?” she continued.

“Love you, if you’ll let me,” Jacob answered without hesitation, causing the woman to jerk her head back in shock at his honest answer. “Was that not what you wanted? You knew how to make this Rook sing—quite vocally in some regards—and I don’t think there was a single person in this bloody city that bothered to give me much of a glance unless I was their boss or their target. You were the only one, (Y/N).”

“I was honest with those letters,” she practically whispered, fiddling with her fingers. “I just worried you’d only want me for sex…”

Jacob ‘humphed’ at the thought before sighing out his response, “I am not going to say those letters didn’t ‘excite me’. Bloody hell, I feel like a dog that’s marked his territory nearly all over London because of you.” He was relieved that got a bit of an honest laugh out of her. “But, as I said: that first letter garnished my attention, love—not just the erotic letters.”

She continued to fidget, but eventually that fidgeting turned to her hands rubbing against one another as she nearly rolled her head back. “Well, maybe we should get to know one another?” (Y/N) suggested, smiling to him then. “Without the veil of secrecy then, perhaps?”

“Quite,” Jacob said simply, a smile still hooked upon his lips as he leaned forwards then to ask for her hand. When she relented, he turned the back part of it towards his lips to kiss it in a respectable way with a longing gaze upon her. “Perhaps that will be how we spend our evening here then?”

She didn’t seem to mind the thought. If anything, she bashfully smiled and nodded while holding onto his hand tightly before reluctantly letting her fingers slip from his touch. “I will go first then, if you like?” (Y/N) offered, and allowed the empty room to be filled with her talks of how she had noticed him and the days that transpired shortly after.


	2. The Mockingbird's Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to the Rook and the Mockingbird where Jacob finds out the reader is apparently more than she seems and is hiding a secret from the Brotherhood—and Jacob especially.
> 
> Keep in mind this story is written from a third person omniscient perspective, so any character/ person or whatever can be inserted. =)
> 
> Any mentions of the British Brotherhood Council are people I’ve already spoken of before in The Fall series. They belong to me.

Jacob knew very little of her, and it seemed that was exactly how (Y/N) wanted it. He couldn’t really demand that she tell him more, as even Jacob was keeping his own Assassin heritage from her a secret. Most of the time, they continued their conversations through letter writing, and Jacob couldn’t really complain about that either. While he had insisted that he wanted to get to know her better beyond the fiery and erotic messages she used to send, it seemed (in time) that (Y/N) started to resend the tempting letters once more. 

Often, Jacob would read them in private whether on the train or at a Rook stronghold just to enjoy in her teasing ways. As his hazel eyes continued scanning over the message she had sent that evening, he couldn’t help but smirk before flipping it over from front to back to be sure that was all of it. “What a tease you are, my little mockingbird,” he murmured to himself. 

Before Jacob even had a chance to pocket the letter he began to fold, the door to the stronghold he was residing within suddenly was opened with a Rook urgently coming before him. “Boss!” shouted the male Rook, his tone carrying urgency. 

Regardless of how urgent he seemed Jacob sighed in annoyance. It was a good thing he didn’t get ‘busy’ over that letter he just finished reading, or that Rook would have walked into more than he would have wanted to. All the same, the thought was there, and Jacob felt interrupted on the idea. “What is it?” he grumbled. 

“Blighters, sir,” continued the messenger, causing Jacob to stand to attention rather directly on the thought, “dozens of them, heading our way!” 

Hand on the table, Jacob jumped over the furniture piece and hurried over towards the man with his hat removed and tucked into his trench coat, replacing it with his hood. “Let’s get them to sod off, shall we?” said Jacob, confident in the idea that they would have no problems taking down their challengers, even if they were low on support.

The stronghold he was at only had, roughly, five men and women able to fight, give or take. However, Jacob liked to think he himself could make up for the other half they didn’t have. Checking his gun to be sure of his ammo on the way down the stairs, he hardly had a chance to react when he heard a gunshot go off, causing the glass to break right near the foot of the staircase and strike its target—the Rook that was hurrying behind Jacob. 

Jacob inhaled sharply as the Rook gasped in pain and suddenly hit the wooden staircase without much effort. The nearly lifeless thud was horrifying, and he almost dared not to look behind him to confirm his worries. However, he couldn’t deny his kneejerk reaction to do so, and relented to temptation without fault. Noticing the man’s hand upon his chest and the heavy breathing, Jacob was relieved it wasn’t the heart that was hit, but he wasn’t a doctor…the chest was still a worrisome area to be struck within. The anger that coursed through the Assassin nearly blinded his actions as he took aim with his revolver and started to fire in retaliation for his fallen comrade. 

The Blighter, who was out of sight, took advantage of the situation and took another eager aim—firing through the window once more, prompting the bullet to lodge into Jacob’s shoulder upon her finding that opportunity to do so. 

The Assassin recoiled, gritting his teeth as he placed his hand over the wound that was caused, but Jacob knew he couldn’t lie there on the staircase. If he did…he would be a goner. 

In the hurriedness of his actions, Jacob was able to see that there was a sniper just outside the window trying to take aim for him once more. But, he was swift, and even if injured in the shoulder, he dove out of sight of her next attempt on his life and made it quickly to the window to leap through it and eject his hidden blade before burying it within her skull to end her life. 

Jacob mercilessly ripped his hidden weapon back with a displeased frown. He had killed the Blighter but nearly at the cost of one of his own man. In order to get him the help he would need, Jacob would first have to clear out the stronghold and rush him to the doctor’s. Spying another Blighter attempting to come upon him from the right, Jacob opened fire once more, making a clear shot right at the head and ending the man’s life. 

He was numb to such things and standing there looking indifferently at the man he murdered, Jacob hadn’t bothered to notice that two more brutes were coming up from behind him till they managed to pin the Assassin down without effort. Jacob would have gladly tried to throw them off, but the injury in his shoulder acted up, and he found himself at a disadvantage in the situation. _God dammit…!_ the Assassin mentally swore, finding one of the Blighter’s hands upon the back of his head and nearly burying his face into the ground. 

“What’s all this then?” asked one of the men nearly kneeing Jacob in the back to keep him down. “I thought the impressive Jacob Frye would have more to offer us in a brawl than this rubbish.” 

The voice of the man was low and reminded Jacob of a man who probably smoked frequently in his pastime given the roughness of the tone. All the same, the taunt wasn’t appreciated given the fact he was caught so off guard by the Blighter’s arrival. “Let me up,” began Jacob, turning his head to the side so his words would carry better, “and I will show you the brawl you’re looking for…!” The Blighter’s knee pushed even more harshly upon Jacob’s back, prompting Jacob to stifle his groan of discomfort, not wishing to give them the satisfaction. 

“Oi, lad, we ain’t that daft,” spat the nameless man with a twisted smirk accompanying his scarred features. 

Jacob could just hear the other man laughing behind him, making the Assassin lightly joke in return. “Well, shit then. I guess you gents proved me wrong.” He hadn’t thought about the severity of the situation or where his other Rooks might be. It was when the cool metal of a gun was placed upon the back of his head that he realized how much in danger he was if lady luck didn’t smile upon him soon. 

“Let’s see you get out of this mess, lad,” grinned the Blighter. 

The sound of the gun clicking nearly caused Jacob to react without thought as he knew he couldn’t afford to die at that moment; however, seemed lady luck would indeed smile upon him as the sound of a distant rifle going off broke the worrisome silent and took out the man upon his back with ease. Jacob would have moved to remove the other, as the pressure upon his back was freed, but another shot echoed about the stronghold, and that man too fell. 

Hesitantly, Jacob rose to his knees first and looked about the stronghold for the one responsible. Was it a fellow Rook? Evie maybe? His eyes drifted to the nearby rooftops to notice, with his eagle vision, that it was someone…someone of a feminine origin given the body type with a rifle in hand, but he couldn’t tell who it was. Evie never really used a rifle…so it couldn’t be her. Getting to his feet slowly then, as he could tell his savior was looking upon him and lowering her weapon to her shoulder, Jacob raised his hand as a thanks, hoping she’d come down to speak with him. 

But she didn’t.

The figure cloaked in darkness quickly ran in the other direction from the rooftop she was upon and disappeared. 

“Hey, wait!” Jacob shouted, but he only took one step forwards when he realized it would be better to try and save the men and women who did their best to fight off the Blighters. He wasn’t sure what happened to the others, and he feared to know given they didn’t come to his rescue; all the same, he knew now was not the time to chase this mystery woman. 

 

 

Jacob, reluctantly, allowed the doctor to tend to his own bullet wound when he was able to get who he could to the nearby hospital. He lost two fighters in that surprise attack, and while their deaths were hard on him, he knew that Rook deaths were bound to happen given the brutality of the Blighters. Strongholds were always in a power struggle lately, as the Blighters were still there working for Templars and trying to keep a foothold in London. With Crawford Starrick gone, it was becoming worse given the new threats that would arise. 

All the same, Jacob kept on his toes. He just wasn’t prepared for that attack in Lambeth. Perhaps it was the love letter written by (Y/N) that distracted him so, but he dared not blame the woman he had fallen for in this. 

When she came to his mind, he made his way quickly to where she resided in the western part of Whitechapel. It had taken some doing, but he managed to find where she lived. (Y/N) was secretive as he was, but that didn’t stop him from being a snoop from time to time and following her when she least expected it. There was something mysterious about her…something he couldn’t put his finger on, but Jacob felt he had no reason to fear her. 

(Y/N) was waiting up, her nightgown already in place for the night as she fidgeted nervously in wait for Jacob Frye. She knew he was coming, but with how late he was, (Y/N) couldn’t help but worry. Hearing the knock at her front door, she moved her gown from her bare feet and hurried to answer it, relieved of the man on the other side. “Jacob!” she exclaimed breathlessly, moving her arms just under his to embrace him in a gentle manner. “I was wondering where you were…!” 

Jacob chuckled softly, trying to ignore the minor pain that rippled up his arm from the bullet wound that was healing. “I’m fine, love,” he comforted, resting his arms about her shaken form in return. “Forgive me for being late and all. I was—.” 

“What’s this then?” she interrupted, her fingers lightly touching upon the bandaged wound she saw a sliver of from his attire, prompting her to move more of it out of the way to get a better look. (Y/N)’s brow furrowed when she saw the blooded bandages, “You are wounded…” 

Removing his trench coat at that moment and loosening his tie afterwards, Jacob rolled his eyes as he tried to act as though the injury was nothing. However, every minor movement he made in undressing caused it to burn and his expression he attempted to keep playful was hardly convincing in the matter. “I am fine, (Y/N),” Jacob passed off with a strained tenor to his voice, tossing his clothes on her sofa nearby as he intended to relax and stay the night. 

(Y/N) sighed, aiding him in removing the remainder of his clothing so he wouldn’t have to do much stirring about. “What happened? Why were you injured?” Her tone sounded as though she were on the verge of scolding him. “Usually you are more cautious than this.” Wanting him off of his feet, (Y/N) guided him to her sofa, moving his clothing out of the way that he had dropped there prior and helping her lover to get comfortable. 

Did he dare say why? He didn’t want (Y/N) to feel guilty for distracting his mind, and it wasn’t fair to place any blame on her when he shouldn’t have dulled his senses like that. “I was just careless,” Jacob said simply, relaxing under her touch when her palms came upon his bare, hairy chest. The Assassin reclined back, letting the cushions of the sofa relax him further, his eyes closed to enjoy in the warmth of her fire that (Y/N) had prepared. 

“That’s all you have to say?” (Y/N) grumped, hardly impressed by that answer. “You hold your life in little value…a lot less than how I hold it so.” 

Jacob’s eyes found hers from where his head was reclined upon the upper part of the sofa. Avoiding her angered stare by closing his eyes once more, he could only hum in thought when it came to trying to explain himself. “Part of my… ‘job’, love.” He had to prevent himself from saying ‘Creed’. “I am used to holding other people’s lives higher than my own.” 

“How unfair,” (Y/N) sighed, her hand trailing from his chest to his neck and then his cheek to try and urge him to look at her once more. “What about thinking of someone you love then? Does what I think matter so little to you as well?” 

Jacob’s expression remained neutral. He wasn’t sure he could give her a good answer when it came to such a thing. He was trained to never hesitate in certain situations when it came to the Creed. There were even moments in his training where he was told, if he were to be captured, to be killed either by his enemy’s hand or his own was considered the honorable way to die. Always spare the Brotherhood of Assassins and let them remain in secret. If you fail, your life will end by the Brotherhood’s blade if not by your enemy’s or your own. 

“It **_does_** matter, (Y/N),” Jacob insisted, taking her hand and holding it tightly to show his emotions on the subject. “If anything, you keep me fighting stronger…and…don’t tell my sister this, but a bit smarter as well.” 

(Y/N) smiled gently, shaking her head with a cocky look. “I’ve never met your sister.” 

“Really? In all your prying and spying on me in the past, you never once saw her?” Jacob asked with a mocking grin. 

“She was never around you,” (Y/N) pointed out with a brief chuckle, which tickled her throat. “It is as though you two rarely fight these Blighters together.” 

Jacob scoffed with a shrug of his shoulders. “Oi, we both had a different view of the Rooks, and while they are ‘thriving’,” Jacob said in quoting Henry Green with a slight gesture of his hands, “I still put more attention to them than my dear sister does.” He nodded downward at nothing in particular, continuing, “We also have different fighting styles, so it is hard to work with one another, but we do try.” 

(Y/N)’s eyes studied Jacob closely, a sideways smile still holding firm upon her lips. “Sounds as though she irritates you a bit.” 

Again, a laugh ruptured forth from Jacob as if shocked by how accurate that answer was a bit. “What sibling doesn’t from time to time?” He turned to (Y/N) then upon making that comment, noticing how her eyes seemed to dart away for a moment as if guilty about something. Jacob raised his head slightly off of the crest rail when he noticed it. “Have your own sibling, do you?” 

She sucked in her lips, shaking her head with a playful look to try and do away with the other Jacob had caught sight of. “No, I do not, and I guess I should be relieved in that bit,” she said jokingly. 

“You can barrow mine if you fancy to,” teased Jacob in return. 

(Y/N) moved her lips to Jacob’s as if to silence him. Her hand mindful of his injury, she placed it upon his left breast while attempting to sample the taste of his breath she had gone hours without. Inches from his lips, (Y/N) spoke softly, “I’d rather borrow you for the evening, if you’ll allow me.” 

Jacob’s eyebrow raised ever so slightly, his hazel eyes studying (Y/N). “Are you sure you want to stir up trouble with me, love?” Jacob asked, as she had been intent on trying to just get to know him better in the past few months than have sex with one another. 

Besides, that was her original fear—he only wanted her for sex given all the sultry letters she wrote to him. 

(Y/N) coyly looked away as her teeth played with her lower lip. “If it doesn’t agitate your injury any, I would love the thought.” 

Jacob looked to his shoulder at that moment and smirked with a nasally huff of playfulness expelling from him. “It is just a bullet wound that burns like fire when I move a bit. As long as I don’t do much moving, I should be fine.” 

His tone was lewd and suggestive, and when (Y/N) noticed he had uncrossed his legs at that comment, she gave a knowing smile. “Fine then. I’ll do all the work like you men make the women do,” she playfully jabbed, straddling his lap at that moment to kiss him upon his neck and bite tenderly upon the exposed flesh before toying with his ear afterwards. 

The Assassin was about to get playful in return, but his voice was instantly derailed on the matter when (Y/N) teeth came upon his earlobe and her breath and gentle moans tickled his ear. “Bloody hell,” he breathed, closing his eyes to enjoy in the mounting sensation he hadn’t had a chance to enjoy in since his times in Crawley. Moving his abled arm on instinct, he attempted to encourage her onward as Jacob kept her in place while rocking his hips forwards. With all the teasing of his senses she had done in the past, it was merely his wound that kept him from pushing her to the ground and having his way with her. As she continued to rouse his senses by licking, biting, and kissing upon his skin in different areas, Jacob hissed at how restricted he was beginning to feel. “You’ve taunted me with these fantasies for months, and now you have the gull to keep taunting me so,” he commented, allowing a swear to escape his lips shortly after. 

“What is the matter?” (Y/N) asked, cupping his cheeks, which were warm to the touch, to acquire his attention. “You don’t like it when I play with you as this?” 

Jacob couldn’t help but notice that her voice held some sort of knowing mannerism to it—as though she knew what it was she was doing in regards to him or men in general. Was she a prostitute at some point of her life? Women were usually restricted from sleeping so honestly with others unlike men where society didn’t care much in regards to their doing. He briefly shrugged his brow, a breathless laugh escaping him. “I want to feel your mouth on my cock right now, (Y/N),” Jacob demanded through his clenched teeth, his fingers curling upon the back of her head as if to urge the matter. “You’ve written me fantasies about this…now I want to feel it!” 

(Y/N) could only seem to grin and laugh at her handiwork in the matter of arousing Jacob Frye. “Temper, temper, Mr. Frye,” she began in a seductive yet warning tone as she began to move off of his lap then, her hands grabbing at his belts to pull upon them and make him feel a slight discomfort in the restriction he was already experiencing. “I don’t think it is wise to tell me what to do when you are so keen to have me with your cock in my mouth.” 

Laughing at her words with a sneer to follow, he allowed the sound of her casually unbuckling him to toy with his senses further as the Assassin felt his pants loosen then much to his relief. “You rouse my temper as this, and you know you do.” He raised his right brow only as if to study (Y/N). “It’s as if you garnish pleasure from that.” 

Jacob’s swelling erection was soon within (Y/N)’s grasp and it was there she began to stroke him slowly from the base to the tip, which was already leaking with a bit of pre-cum. She touched upon it, toying with the substance between her index and thumb finger. “Excited, are we?” (Y/N) asked knowingly, turning to look up at Jacob’s lidded gaze. “Got my letter, I am guessing?” 

The Assassin smirked, giving her a sideways grin. “You know I did.” 

(Y/N) squeezed the base of his erection, kissing upon the head and prompted a heated gasp from Jacob’s lips to follow as it was exciting every fiber of his being just feeling a woman touching upon him once more. “Then I guess I should do my best to act out that event, shouldn’t I?” 

Before he could hope to urge her onward, Jacob gasped out once more, head rolling backward as he felt her mouth back upon his sensitive skin. Her lips pulling gently upon his organ, Jacob did everything he could to resist bucking forwards just to feel the wet, warmth of her throat coating every inch of him. His brow wrinkled in pleasure that could almost be mistaken for pain, his lidded sight glazed in euphoria looked down upon her to notice (Y/N) getting closer and closer to the base of his erection. “Fuck…!” he swore heatedly, feeling his orgasm getting equally close upon every act on him. 

As it started to rise to its peak, Jacob acted without thinking and pushed against the back of her head to urge her onward. Keeping her in place to where her nose was practically buried against his pubic hair, he closed his eyes tightly, his teeth bared to the point he was nearly drooling in ecstasy where Jacob felt his thighs tense, and he came excitedly within her throat, a muffled, shaky grunt the only warning she truly had. 

(Y/N) flinched from the unspoken for act, grabbing at his hips to keep herself steady as she felt the spray of his release shoot down into her throat, nearly gagging her. She wasn’t able to swallow all of it, but she did try. The release dripping from the corners of her mouth and even staining the outer part of her throat, she pulled back in a loud gasp to regain her breath, coughing harshly afterwards as she did nearly choke on the cum. 

“You…it’s been awhile for you…hasn’t it?” (Y/N) gasped. Feeling Jacob’s fingers upon the corners of her mouth, as he attempted to clean her up, she turned her sights to him curiously. 

“A few years,” he mentioned vaguely, playfully and seductively having a taste of himself from his fingers before digging into his nearby trench coat pocket to unearth his handkerchief to clean her face that way. “When you’re busy liberating London, you don’t find the time you wish for sleeping with women. Your letters didn’t help much, really,” he smirked. 

“I wasn’t aware you were so sexually repressed,” (Y/N) mocked, urging his hand away from her mouth as she figured that was enough of him cleaning her like some parent. 

“And what of you?” Jacob asked, mindfully putting the fabric back into his pocket. 

“What of me?” (Y/N) parroted almost defensively.

“Your letters and your actions would hardly be that of an unknowing virgin girl,” Jacob admitted without hesitation, prompting (Y/N) to look away almost urgently. When he noticed it, his playful grin faltered into a curious frown. “Something wrong?” 

(Y/N) laughed quietly, waving away his worries. “It’s nothing.” Moving to her feet, (Y/N) kissed Jacob upon his cheek warmed by their actions prior. “Perhaps it is wise we sleep?” 

“You’re hiding something from me, aren’t you?” Jacob knew that wasn’t new. (Y/N) was intent to keep him out of some locked door within her heart that unraveled her past. Every attempt he tried to opening it, (Y/N) kept the key to such secrets firm within her breasts. 

“No,” (Y/N) said simply, offering her hands for Jacob to take in regards to the man finding his feet. 

“What have I done to be kept in the dark as this?” Jacob desired to know, accepting her offer and with a labored moan from the pain in his shoulder, took to his feet before bothering to fix his pants back into place at least. 

(Y/N) gave him a stern look—a look he had never seen her give before. “You have your own secrets, Jacob Frye,” she said in a low, eerie tone of warning. “Have I once asked you about them?” 

His curious look turned to confusion, his mind going right to the Assassins. Did she know…? He briefly sighed with irritation, shaking his head at (Y/N)’s words to him. “Well, no, but if you wish to know, I would tell you if you tell me yours.” 

The mystery woman looked down at the hold Jacob soon had upon her hand in desperation to get to know her better. “Your secrets are yours to share, Jacob,” (Y/N) admitted reluctantly, pulling her hand from his to motion for him to follow her to the bedroom should he desire to. “I will not demand you share them with me if you do not wish to.” 

Jacob hurried after her, grabbing at her arms to try and steady her. Before he could hope to speak to her, (Y/N) silenced him. 

“There is no bargain in this, Jacob,” she spoke somberly. “If I feel ready to tell you, then I shall.” Moving then, she kissed him upon his cheek with a pain riddled expression. “Can’t you just let me love you right now?” 

He wanted to get to know more about her, but Jacob sighed in defeat in this matter—turning to kiss her in return. While liberating London, he had his fair share of people toying with his heart, and now he was content to just be openly loved by someone. “Of course,” he breathed heavy heartedly, expelling the pain in those memories with a nasally exhale.

 

\--

 

The weeks continued like any other. Jacob would tend to his missions given to him by the Council and meet up with (Y/N) in the privacy of her bedroom to act out her fantasies as she so intended. Even if she was still mysterious, Jacob felt content with it all—content that he finally found someone who loved him for who he was and not just using him as a means to an end. 

Stumbling upon the train hideout a bit late one evening, Evie was there in his part of the train staring at a message from the Council when Jacob happened by. “Still nose deep into your studies, I see,” Jacob teased, plopping down on the loveseat he usually took comfort upon. 

“A letter from the Council, actually,” murmured Evie, her voice labored with thought before she took it upon herself to turn and look at Jacob accusingly. “And where have you been dashing off to lately?” 

Jacob had found it of little importance to tell her of his and (Y/N)’s outings. However, since now she asked, was there really a reason to hide anything? “I’ve been out enjoying myself with the sender of those love letters you teased me over.” 

“Oh, the woman who actually found you attractive?” Evie expressed lightheartedly, pocketing the Council letter for the time being. “And who is the poor soul?” 

“Her name is (Y/N), if you must be so curious,” Jacob surrendered without thought. 

Evie’s body went firm at the name, causing her to raise her brow ever so slightly. “(Y/N), you say? What does she look like…?” 

Jacob thought his sister’s reaction was odd, but he explained the way his lover looked without fault. “Why do you ask? Something the matter?” 

“No, the name and description just…they both sound familiar to me,” admitted Evie, trying so hard to try and remember where she heard it all before. Was it in a letter? Was it an old novel about Assassins? Was it George Westhouse who spoke of his woman? “Blast! I can’t put the pieces together!” 

The fellow Assassin raised his brow to her words and actions. “You sound concerned, sister of mine…” His heart was beating rapidly in worry. Why was Evie sounding so troubled over that name? He had heard nothing of this woman, but that meant very little, really. The man hardly paid much focus on his studies or even letters the Council would send. 

Evie’s hand to her forehead, she expelled her frustrated sigh before turning to Jacob. “The name…it just…it reminds me of…” She stalled. For once in her life, she stalled at giving Jacob any bad news as the look of fear that spread upon her brother’s face was almost more than she could bear. Besides, it was better to be safe than sorry. “It’s nothing, Jacob,” she waved away. “Besides, I don’t rightly remember the story anyways.” 

Still…she needed some sort of evidence of her concerns. Evie couldn’t have her brother in the embrace of someone who may do him harm… 

 

 

Jacob could hardly rest that evening after Evie’s vague worried behavior about (Y/N)’s name let alone her appearance. He had to go and talk to her…find out more…no matter what it took. As he hurried through the dark streets of London, Jacob was blindsided by an attacker from the nearby alleyway who sprung out of hiding and smashed his left cheek against the nearby lamppost. 

His head reeling from the attack, he tried to regain consciousness in the matter as he growled out a warning. “Now isn’t a good time, lad!” 

“Any time is a brilliant time to take down the elusive Jacob Frye,” insisted the Templar, which had come upon the unsuspecting Assassin. 

His hazel eyes looking at his attacker, he noticed the mark of the Templar and felt his anger redirect. “You’ve crossed me at a wrong moment,” Jacob threatened, using what force he could to shove the Templar off of him and eject his hidden blade to swipe at the man only to cut the front of the clothing the attacker wore. 

The attack in the quiet streets of London began, and the two exchanged blows with their fists though the Templar, in time, drew his knife and did his best to strike down Jacob. “Your head will belong on my wall!” the Templar shouted angrily, trying several times to stab Jacob only to have the Assassin easily leap out of the way. 

Just as Jacob saw his chance to go in for his own kill, a gunshot went off, and he froze in place. Luckily for him, the bullet wasn’t meant for his heart, but for the Templar’s, and he fell over dead without a single word to spare. Exhaling shakily at the sudden assault, Jacob turned to where the bullet came from and, again, he noticed a woman on the roof with a rifle. 

“Her again…!” he exclaimed to himself, but just as he thought to go towards her, the woman quickly ran. “Hey! Wait!” Jacob demanded, finding his feet then and scaling up the building quickly to try and track her down. 

She was quick, and in the instance of chasing her, he knew she had to be someone who had fought most her life. Was it a Rook? It couldn’t be an Assassin…he knew every Assassin that was still residing in London, and there were very little as of late. 

She had turned to the left slope of the rooftop and tried to shake Jacob loose by scaling down the building…well, not just scaling from what Jacob could see as he stood on the edge in time, but free running down it. 

“An Assassin…!” Jacob exclaimed to himself, looking about frantically for a means to cut her off and try to get her to explain herself. When he saw the opposite rooftops, he released his grappling hook and swung down quicker than she could free run, dropping with ease to the road below and running only a few more steps across the street to tackle this mystery woman who had come to his aid twice. 

Against his hold, she desperately struggled, as though she worried Jacob would end her life. “Calm down!” Jacob demanded, grabbing at the hood that was up and in place to expose her better. “I am not going to—!” Her face revealed and her hair falling in place about her features, Jacob nearly felt the air knocked from him. “—hurt you…! (Y/N)!” 

“Get off of me!” she demanded, squirming against the man she had been courting for the past several months. 

Jacob quickly did as she asked, his eyes wide in surprise. Not once had (Y/N) ever led him to believe she was an Assassin. She wore casual dresses and worked at the local factory in Whitechapel. However, when she used to leave those love letters for him to find, she was rather sly about them and escaped his means of tracking her and even commented she had been watching him from afar. 

Now it was starting to make more sense… 

“You’re a bloody Assassin, and you never once told me!” Jacob’s words came across as scolding more than anything. 

“There was no reason to,” (Y/N) said plainly, closing her eyes at these turn of events and wishing she could undo them for her own personal reasons. “I was the Assassin in hiding ever since your arrival here, Jacob. I watched everything you and your sister did and felt relief in the fact I didn’t have to do this all alone…” 

“Now is…now is not the best place for this, love,” insisted Jacob, motioning away and to a carriage nearby. They could talk in private on their way back to her home. At least parts of her secrets were exposed. But why was she hiding to begin with? London could have used all of the help it could when Crawford was taking over the place. 

(Y/N) didn’t need to be told twice and followed suit to the carriage where she sat there in awkward silence for a moment, her fists bundled upon her pants she was wearing. Expelling an exasperated sigh, she looked to Jacob pleadingly. “You cannot tell anybody I am here,” she whispered. “Especially not the British Brotherhood Council…” 

“Why?” Jacob demanded to know, leaning in closer towards (Y/N). He wasn’t in the mood. He had been lied to enough, and he wanted answers. “Why are you hiding so intently so?” 

“I cannot tell you!” (Y/N) retaliated, her brow wrinkling in dismay that Jacob would try to force the words from her. “All I can say is I work a lot more secretively than you do, Jacob Frye.” 

With how worried Evie sounded earlier, Jacob couldn’t help but guard his aching heart. “Why were you stalking me for so long? Was I your target?” 

(Y/N) frowned, showing how unimpressed she was with that statement. “If I wanted you dead, Jacob, you’d be dead…with a bullet wound to your skull.” 

Jacob found some relief in that comment as the carriage lightly bobbed about from the rocky road they were traveling upon. “Only Assassin I’ve known who can handle a rifle with that great precision.” 

“Charles saw to that,” (Y/N) murmured, as if reluctant to depart with that information. Her eyes moved right ahead, not wishing to open the door to her secret chamber much further. 

“Charles Riddington, you mean? The leader of the British Brotherhood?” Jacob attempted to clarify. 

“Yes.” 

The carriage finally came to a stop, and it was (Y/N) who quickly departed with Jacob eagerly coming in after her. “And you still won’t tell me why you hide? Should I bring your name up before the Council in one of my next letters?” Jacob threatened, as (Y/N) had lied to him about a few things, as minor as they were. 

“ **NO!** ” (Y/N) accidentally exclaimed, her hand upon her front door when she let the word slip from her. Her hands moved upon her lips, she apologized mutely in her expression for being so straightforward and discourteous. “Forgive me, I just—!” Here, (Y/N) urgently pushed her front door open and made her way inside, intent to shut the door on Jacob and leave him outside. 

However, Jacob caught the door and flung it open to allow himself inside. He wasn’t satisfied with the answers he was getting. “You’ve been lying to me from the very start, (Y/N). You’ve seen my sister and you know who we both are. You were an Assassin from the beginning and constantly trailing me, yet you never once told me of this!” His voice was rising in heated disbelief as he stood inches from where she stood in the living room. “So tell me this, (Y/N), was your declaration of love to me merely a lie as well!” That was the one thing he needed to know…everything else, Jacob would gladly overlook, but he needed to know this answer. 

“Don’t talk like that, Jacob!” (Y/N) pleaded, her eyes showing her sorrow in the thought he would think such a thing. “If there is one thing I’ve been honest about, it’s been my feelings for you…” 

“Then show me,” Jacob ordered through his clenched teeth. 

(Y/N) hardly needed to be told twice on the matter, and it was there she came upon Jacob and urged his back against the nearby wall, her lips upon his as she kissed him feverishly, a small whine of a moan rumbling in her throat as she fell to the mercy of him. 

As their lips occupied one another, Jacob roughly removed her coat and then forced the rest of her clothing to follow in a flurry of motions that was nearly him ripping off her clothes till she was in nothing but her bra and pants. (Y/N) assumed she had the upper hand in it all, but it was Jacob that grabbed upon her shoulders and urged her back to the wall in his place. 

The roughness of his actions bothered her very little. It had been so long since (Y/N) had anybody to spend her nights with and to love as passionately as this that she would take any bruise Jacob would land upon her whether intentional or by accident. His hands upon her buttocks, (Y/N) gasped in delight as she felt him tugging at the fabric and soon, removing it without worry. Her body completely exposed in time, minus her undergarments, Jacob removed his own clothing in kind to expose his aggressive eagerness he had for her. 

Jacob used the wall as his support for her, pressing her back against it all the more to where he was sure she was held firm before pushing the rest of her up and upon his hips, trying to entice her legs around him. Upon him feeling her comply, he maneuvered around her panties and forced his length within her, a wild and eager groan escaping his lips in the process as the fit was tight and every wet ridge of her entrance embraced him. 

Again, it had been a long time for him, and (Y/N)’s teasing letters did little to deter his rough actions upon her. His fingers digging upon her back thighs, he pushed within her again and again to the point her back was nearly slamming into the wall, her only other support off of the floor, and causing a few picture frames to crash to the ground below, the wooden furniture against the wall rattling in its own melody upon his procedures. 

“Jacob!” she howled, her entrance hardly ever had a taste of him yet as she had that fear she had only roused his sexual appetite and never his emotional heart. Her own fantasies taking form in that moment, it nearly left her numb with delight. Body tingling from head to toe and her breath labored and in gasps at how the excitement began to build within her stomach and threaten to unleash upon the probing length. “I-I’m going to cum…!” she warned, only to prompt the Assassin’s lips upon her own as he held still, fully sheathed within her dampness, which coated his engorged organ. 

“Then let’s cum together,” Jacob whispered upon her lower lip, thrusting further once more to ignite that temptation within (Y/N) and forcing himself to release only seconds after. 

Her body caving down upon him for several, blissful moments, the heavy release that Jacob had given her willingly dribbled between her legs and made its mark there upon the wooden flooring. She could hear it tapping like the raindrops outside her window and upon (Y/N) catching her breath and finding the movement back within her legs, she managed to unwind them from Jacob’s hips and lowered herself, with his aid, back to standing. 

She was breathless, sweating profusely with a gentle and loving (yet sloppy) kiss to her lover that he too returned in kind. “Did you cum?” Jacob asked, though the look in his eyes was more than enough to say that he knew. 

“With your name on my lips,” (Y/N) answered euphorically, moving to kiss him yet again to express her unyielding love and desire for him.

 

\--

 

Upon Jacob returning to the train early the next day, Evie was up in worry. She was pacing about his cart like some worried mother who hadn’t seen her son come home from school. “Jacob!” she exclaimed in relief upon him venturing inside. “I was worried about you! Where were you last night?” 

“I was just out,” Jacob said simply, thumbing over his shoulder from where he came. “Something the matter? You look a bit miffed.” 

“With (Y/N)?” Evie probed, causing Jacob to look away unenthusiastically. “Is that who?” When he didn’t answer her, she sighed in regret, digging into her pocket to pull out an old letter, which had the British Council’s seal. “I know where I’ve heard her before. Charles sent this letter to us both when he found of our arrival here, and he warned me of her.” 

“What?” Jacob asked, scrunching up his face in disbelief. “Why? What did she do?” He didn’t want to read it, really. Jacob wanted to remain in disbelief. 

“She betrayed the Brotherhood, Jacob,” Evie warned forlornly, making Jacob look to the letter that his sister had passed over to him. “(Y/N) was sold to Charles as a wife when she was 13 after the passing of his first wife. She trained as an Assassin under his care only to turn on him and get three of his children of the Creed murdered at the hands of Templars.” 

Jacob’s eyes began to scan the letter, looking for any means to disprove her as his heart began to swell in agony. 

“Charles saved himself and two of his five children were spared…but it was (Y/N) who leaked that information willingly of his whereabouts to a local Templar. She even exposed the rest of the Council and their living quarters as well, causing two of the members of the Council to die at the enemy’s hand!” 

“Bloody nonsense,” Jacob growled, not wishing to think it true as he nearly tore up the letter to be done with the thought. 

Evie would not relent, regardless of how stubborn her brother was being. “Jacob, she has killed several Assassins sent to London to try and stop her! You could be next!” 

“Stop it!” Jacob roared, his hands tensed and slightly outstretched to his sides. 

Sucking in her lower lip, Evie gestured to her immovable brother. “If you do not put an end to her, brother…then I will. The Council has demanded her death for her treachery, and if you refuse to kill her, then you too will end being hunted by the Council.” 

Jacob felt his heart break, and his entire body nearly went rigid. How many times was he going to be fooled like this? First Pearl, then Roth…now (Y/N)? “I’ll handle it,” the younger twin spoke with strain, moving to the loveseat to try and let the sadness leave him, but the longer he sat there dwelling on it all, he was beginning to see why (Y/N) was so intent to remain in the dark. She was manipulative…probably pulling upon his strings at this moment just to get another Assassin dead. His sadness turned to anger, and in that moment, he grabbed at the nearby parchment and a pen and wrote her a letter of warning. 

_(Y/N),  
_

_I know who you are, and I know what you are no thanks to the British Council explaining your dark secrets you’ve kept intently from me. I write to you now in warning that my blade will soon find its way within your traitorous heart.  
_

_You’ve lied to me for the last time; kept more than enough secrets from me and turned my mind into a mess from it.  
_

_Well, I will have you killed yet, my mockingbird. And here is my own secret that I depart for you: it was all just about the sex and your body—the only bloody things I cared about.  
_

_Jacob Frye_

 

 

He had the letter sent, and he waited for nightfall. If his plan worked, (Y/N) would leave, and he wouldn’t have to do this. (Y/N) would have fled London in fear and in heartbreak if she truly did love him, sparing his own aching heart at the idea of having to be the one to murder her. However, upon him stepping foot through her window to check and be sure of such a thing, luck refused to smile upon him, as she was standing there at the ready—nervously fidgeting with her fingers though her own glove was in place. 

“Jacob,” she breathed heartbrokenly. “Please…you have to listen to me right now…” 

Jacob remained firm, heading onward with his cowl in place and his stare that of business. “I’ve heard enough,” he insisted darkly, ejecting his hidden blade to let her see he wasn’t going to let her go easily. “I gave you a chance to run away from here, and you didn’t take it.” 

“I know those words you said were lies about us,” (Y/N) continued, her voice breaking in sorrow as she tried to reach the killer she had come to adore. “But if you’d just let me explain myself—!” 

“ **ENOUGH**!” Jacob roared, lunging at (Y/N) then and causing their blades to collide. Even if she had blocked his attack, he wasn’t going to let up as he swung his right fist to her face and prompted her to reel backwards from the strike. The hit was apparently harsh enough to make her land on her back, and it was there he felt numb as he used the moment wisely to straddle her and keep her there upon the ground with his blade aiming right for her neck. 

(Y/N) was quick in that moment, grabbing at his wrist and doing everything she could to keep the blade’s tip from finding its mark. “Jacob, **PLEASE** —you have to listen to me!” 

“I am done listening to your lies!” Jacob grunted, trying to use all the force he had to push onward to end her life without mercy. 

“Don’t do this to me!” she screamed, tears streaming from her eyes in desperation as the other Assassins were easier to murder compared to the one she had fallen for. 

“You’re **_making_** me do this!” In truth, she was. Jacob had sent that letter as his means to make her leave and spare them both further heartache in one having to kill the other, but (Y/N) didn’t take the hint. 

(Y/N) whined in submission, still doing her best to keep her lover from killing her. With how much stronger he was than her, she knew the power struggle would be over in a matter of minutes if she didn’t think fast. “Jacob, stop this! I love you!” 

Those words caused more rage than Jacob himself was expecting. His heart was constantly toyed with before, and he was done with it being so. The pain rupturing in his heart upon them being spared, Jacob removed his hand from hers with a mighty yell riddled in pain, his eyes blinded in tears, he shoved the blade downward without thought… 

(Y/N) closed her eyes as she expected this was it. This was the end for her; however, she only heard a ‘thunk’ of a sound next to her left side, and upon opening her eyes again, she turned and noticed the hidden blade had found its resting place there within the floorboards and not her throat as she assumed it would. (Y/N) slowly turned to notice Jacob had lowered his head to hide the emotional pain crippling his actions. 

He was trained to kill anybody should the time come for it, but with (Y/N)…he had spent far too much time to merely do so in one day. 

“Jacob,” she breathed, moving her hands against his chest to urge him into an embrace, but Jacob removed himself from her attempts to comfort him. 

“Do not touch me!” he growled, his eyes still shining with tears, which cascaded down his cheeks. 

“Should I explain myself?” (Y/N) asked, figuring at this point it was pointless to hide. Jacob didn’t answer, and she expected as much, so she used her time wisely. “I was sold to Charles when I was a young girl, because my family was poor. Charles was looking for a bride, no matter the age, and so it was I who was offered to him.” (Y/N) looked away painfully at the memory. “I was forced into the arms of a man I didn’t love, who was far older than I…a man…who had children older than me, and I was to be his breeding whore.” The thought stung at her, but she knew that was mainly what he needed in terms of a wife. “I cannot say he didn’t treat me kindly, for he did and taught me the ways of the Creed.” 

Jacob turned to look upon her then, trying to find some belief in her words. 

“As I grew up, I had…two of his children, and family life was just what it was. It wasn’t anything special for me, but I did enjoy my life as an Assassin.” She paused, fidgeted once again before sighing out her somberness. “You asked if I had a sibling once…” 

Jacob’s brow rose to her words, remaining quiet still. 

“I did,” (Y/N)’s voice began to crack under the pressure of the secret she kept buried in her heart. “She was younger than me…a small, innocent girl…a girl that the Templars threatened to butcher and murder in front of me should I refuse to aid in telling them where the Council resided.” Pausing, (Y/N)’s lower lip quivered as she struggled to continue. “I know it is selfish, but I would gladly give anybody’s life for the life of my sister…a girl who did nothing to deserve to be caught in this war, so I surrendered the information of their whereabouts willingly. Just as I spared that information to them, they cut off her head right before my eyes.” Closing her eyes, (Y/N) did her best to regain her courage to continue the story. “I tried to warn Charles, but by the time I got there, three of his children were dead, and he was gone. I found out later, Alison Widdleston was killed and so was Jeremy Adaworth—two other members of the Council. Knowing that…I caused their collapse for nothing…it wasn’t glorifying in the least.” 

“And you killed others that were sent upon you,” Jacob remarked, attempting to dry his eyes at this point. 

“Would you not when you knew you did no wrong?” (Y/N) asked eagerly. 

“No matter whose life is on the line, you never reveal the Brotherhood to the enemy,” Jacob chastised. 

“She didn’t deserve to be involved in that war!” (Y/N) retaliated quietly, tears streaming from her eyes at the mere thought. 

“And you had no intention of murdering me?” 

(Y/N) looked away at him questioning such a thing. “At first, I did…I thought you were sent here to kill me.” Her eyes found Jacob’s and she nasally sighed in dismay. “But I was foolish, and I fell in love with my target…” 

Hearing her say those words again, Jacob released the pain from him in a heavy exhale before coming upon (Y/N)’s lips and kissing her lovingly. Jacob would have gladly made it deeper, but his heart hurt too much to act upon his impulses. “I love you too,” he nearly whispered in regret, as he knew this wouldn’t end well for either of them. 

“The Council will have your head if you say such things,” (Y/N) warned, her hand upon his own to hold it in need of support. 

Jacob scoffed at the thought. “I will find a way to make this right…make this easier between us…” the Assassin promised in a whisper, resting his forehead against her own as he felt at a crossroads on what to do. 

“To make it easier on us, just kill me,” (Y/N) pleaded, looking upon her murderous lover. 

“I will not!” Jacob growled through his clenched teeth. “I will do no such thing…!”


End file.
